The Whole Enchilada of Justice!
by Tinea
Summary: A medley of random drabbles, requested by the readers or randomly thunked up by yours truly. You ask for it, I'll write it- or die trying! Not really, but don't you just love the dramatic effect?
1. A Pearl of Great Price

**Hey y'all. I decided that in order to get my inspiration back for my big story, I needed to do some little stories.**

**This is going to be a bunch of random drabbles related to the Justice League. Since the point of this is to think outside the box and write about things that I wouldn't normally think to write about, I'm hoping to write directly from viewer requests. You ask for it, I'll try to write it. (no slash or M-rated, though)**

**Anyway, this first one is just to get started. You can think of it as a prologue or something. Now, in my head, Martha Kent(in the version where Jhonathan dies early on) should marry Alfred. I've see a handful of Marha/Alfred stories and I've always been endeared to them, cause they're just so cute. I don't know what y'all think, but I liked the idea, so... Here goes-**

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Sunlight streamed gently through the oversized window of Wayne Manor, and fell on an older woman.

Martha smiled as she took in her reflection, her hair done elegantly and her modest white dress showed off an understated beauty.

She felt like a queen, all dolled up. Bruce really shouldn't have spent all that money on her (though, for him it probably wasn't much at all). Her dress had been tailor made, and she knew she had never looked better, but she felt something was missing.

The sound of footsteps sounded as someone approached the door.

"Alfred Pennyworth," she shouted teasingly, "you had better not be trying to come in here! You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

But it was a deeper, smoother voice that answered her. "It's just me, Mrs. Kent- May I come in?"

"Oh, of course Dear!" she shouted in surprise. Bruce walked in. His manner was calm, (completely unlike her Clark, who had been calling and re-calling guests, and checking over the catering for the twelfth time, and baffling that poor young waiter when his pacing started to wear a track in the concrete )

yet he seemed almost reluctant, unsure...

"Now what is it, Bruce Dear?" she asked warmly. She sat down the vanity bench and motioned for Bruce to sit in the chair across from her.

He sat almost hesitantly and his little smile was forlorn, "I wanted to give you something, before the wedding." he said, as a thin, rectangular box seemed to appear in his hands. He held it out to her.

She smiled, "Bruce, you've already paid for everything. You don't need to go around buying gifts on top of all the rest."

"...I didn't buy it," he insisted.

Curious, she took the box and flipped the lid open to reveal an old, but beautiful pearl necklace. The string and clasp looked new, but the pearls themselves had an antique shine. She turned to the mirror and held the necklace to her throat, and found that they complimented her wonderfully.

Bruce told her as much, then, "...It was my mother's."

Martha turned to him in surprise.

"I'd like you to have it-" he said. "She loved those pearls. Wore them all the time." he frowned, "But now, whenever I see them I can only remember..." he trailed off, but it was clear what he meant.

"Bruce-"

"Please, Mrs. Kent. I want you to have them. It's selfish of me, but when I look at that necklace I want to think of the family that I've gained... and not the one I've lost..."

Martha's eyes shone with tears, touched at the sentiment. She knew Bruce was very reserved and he rarely spoke about his family. Her Clark had been friends with him for years before she met him for the first time. Afterwards, she had asked Clark if there was something wrong with Bruce, and Clark had simply told her 'That's just how Bruce is- He's giving as much as he can.' and that was that. She learned to recognize his pain and his brokeness, and she understood that he was giving all that he could, and that no one should try to push him farther than he could go.

But here was Bruce- dear, broken, withdrawn, unsure Bruce- trying to give even more. Including her in his family. She hadn't felt so happy since the day she found Clark in that corn field.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, seeing her tears and feeling ashamed, "I knew you wouldn't-"

"Bruce." She said, "Bruce, I want you to understand something."

Martha waited until she had his full attention before continuing, "The day that I found out I could never have children was the worst day of my life. I prayed to God everyday to give me a child. When I found Clark, I thought I would never be so happy as I was that day. Bruce... to hear you include me in your family... It makes me feel like my prayers have been answered all over again. Do you understand, Bruce? I feel like God has given me another son, taken everything I ever prayed for and given me twice as much."

Bruce looked at her in shock and amazement. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, then a smile came to him and stayed there, "Thank you, Mrs. Kent"

She smiled back and laughed, "Now, Bruce, how many times have I told you to call me 'Martha'? Besides, in less than an hour It'll be Mrs. Pennyworth, and I just wont have it."

Bruce gave a rare laugh and nodded, "Martha, then."

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**Now remember, I'll try to write about anyone or anything that someone requests, as long as they give me something to work with. Don't just say "Do Bruce/Diana!" Say "Do Bruce/Diana... at Christmas- lets say, and Bruce explains the custom of mistletoe to Diana. " Something along those lines, and I'll try to work it out.**

**Later, **

**Tinea~**


	2. Amusing Antics

**Ok, chapter 2 up! Thats actually pretty fast for me. This one was requested by The Sacred and Profane.**

**Now, let me tell you something right here- I am not a BMWW fan. Never have been, never will be. I am, however, a fan of good reviews. That being said, I hope I did the story justice. (pun very much intended)**

**Anyone who can tell me the significance of the kids names gets an honorable mention in the next chapter!**

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"I get to pick the story!"

"No! Me!"

"I'm oldest!"

"Da'ey like me bestest!"

"Does not!"

"Do too!"

When Bruce had promised to tell his children a bedtime story, this was not what he had in mind. His first plan had been to tell a normal story, the kind that started with 'once upon a time' and ended with 'and they lived happily ever after', but that was wishful thinking.

"No offence, Dad, but your terrible at making up stories."

"Mommy say Da'ey ha no 'magi-a-shun!"

Plan B was to _read_ them a story from a _book_, but...

"No book, Da'ey. _New_ stowey!"

Of course, then he decided he might be able to confuse them into sleeping by telling them an abridged version of The Odyssey, except...

"Mom told us that one last night. The fun version, where she tells how bad that Homer guy messed it up."

So that left just one thing: kids' choice. Unfortunately, that led to the current argument. Why was it that when he had boys, they would hit eachother and be watching TV an hour later, but now that he had _(three_) girls, they fought about who was the _favorite?_

Four year old Thalia and eight year old Calliope had resorted to hair pulling, and while he could still take down Croc with his hands behind his back, he had no intention of getting inbetween two screaming little Amazonian girls. It was a wonder how they even heard Clio when she quietly said, "Tell us another hero story."

Thalia and Calli both jumped down in agreement.

_Uhh... _"What kind of hero story?"

"Justice League kicks Luthor's butt!"

"Hewos!"

"Can we hear about Wonder Woman? Weren't she and Batman in love?"

Bruce blanked. _'Should a six year old be that perceptive?' _Thalia and Calli were both already proving to be as fierce and proud as their mother, but Clio seemed to take after him. She was quiet, reserved, observant.

"Yeah! I want to hear about Wonder Woman!"

"Yay! Won'r Wom'nan!"

"Oh, OK girls, lets see. There was a woman named Diana-"

"-The same as Mother?"

"-Yes. She was the princess and champion of the Amazons. She was very caring and very brave, so when the world was in danger, she left her island and came to help. When everyone saw how amazing she was, they made her one of their heros and called her Wonder Woman.

She fought in many battles alongside the rest of the Justice League. -"

"But what about Batman! I thought she liked him or something?"

"Yes, Wonder Woman did like Batman-"

"So did they get together or what?!"

"_Not_ at _first_, _Calliope_."

"Why no, Da'ey?"

Bruce sighed. How was he suppose to tell a story if he kept getting interrupted every five seconds. "-Because Batman was very idiotic, and he turned her down at first."

"Wa's 'i-do-ah-dit' Da'ey? "

"Not very smart"

"So how did they get together if Batman was being stupid?"

-"Because a Woman always has her ways, isn't that right, Bruce?" Diana asked from the doorway.

He smiled, "Always, Princess."


	3. Head Desk

**Here's the next chapter! This one's for Darth KenObi-Wan. Hope you like it!**

**Props to Sacred and Profand and Knight2286 for figuring out the challenge of last chapter.**

**Who wants to guess the meaning of chapter one's title?**

I will make sure I have the next chapter done by next Sunday. Hopefully before, but not a day later. Hope y'all like this chapter. Here ya go-

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"Clark, would you be a dear and clear the table?" Martha asked.

"Sure, Ma." said Clark as he gathered up the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

Ma had been mentioning that he should come visit home for some time now. The loving son in him was worried that she might be lonely, but the reporter said she was wanting to tell him something.

He was always concerned about Ma. After Pa had passed, she'd been on her own, and he couldn't always be around. He had a job after all- and other 'business' to keep him busy. The only times he really came home anymore were during holidays and anniversaries.

Clark felt a pang of guilt. Poor Ma, all on her own, and her only son hardly ever takes time to see her...

Maybe he could make it up by helping out? The barn roof needed fixing- and the fence, too. He could give the tractor a quick x-ray to see what was wrong with it. Not to mention while the tractor was broken, the field couldn't be tilled- not the _conventional_ way, at any rate.

He glanced down at the dirty dishes. Maybe he should start by washing those.

"Oh, Clark, you don't have to do all my chores for me." said Martha when he came back from the kitchen.

"If memory serves, washing the dishes use to be my job." he turned serious, "You're working yourself too hard, Ma. Maybe you should take a break, hire some help?"

"Actually, Clark, I've been thinking about selling the farm."

That was not what Clark had expected her news to be. He didn't know what exactly he had thought it was, but it wasn't that.

She laughed at how surprised Clark looked, "Unexpected, I know- but there's really no way for me to keep it."

"I don't understand, Ma."

Martha smiled and offered him her left hand, which was now adorned with a little diamond ring.

"Alfred isn't exactly suited to farm life, now is he, Dear?" she smiled

And because Clark had never heard anything so funny (and true) in his entire life, he did the only thing he could think of- he nodded in agreement and burst out laughing.

* * *

"I know you're the world greatest detective, but honestly Bruce, you have to be surprised."

"Hardly." Bruce said, typing at his computer in the Batcave. "I've known since the Thanksgiving Day party."

"You were brooding all though Thanksgiving- You wouldn't have noticed if your pants were on fire."

Bruce continued typing boredly, "You severely underestimate my abilities of perception."

"Is that so? I wonder what Alfred would tell me if I asked him about your reaction?"

Just then a crisp, English voice cut into the conversation as Alfred came out of nowhere. "-He would tell you that Master Bruce bore a startling resemblance to a goldfish." Alfred served some tea and just as quickly disappeared.

"Outed by the butler," Clark laughed. He suddenly brightened as a thought occurred to him, "You know what this means, don't you?"

"No. Enlighten me."

He smirked, "Were_ related_, now."

Bruce's typing slowed almost imperceptibly. He would just ignore Clark.

Clark continued on, "_Brothers_, even."

Bruce locked his jaw. He was not going to respond.

"Oh, wow. I just realized- _Alfred_ is going to be my _step-father_."

Bruce froze. Apparently, he had just realized that too.

He turned around to find Clark about to fly away.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

Clark smiled deviously, "To tell everyone we know."

And before Bruce could react, he was gone in a red blur.

Bruce sat in his chair wondering what exactly one was suppose to do in this situation, until Tim showed up (also out of nowhere) and asked "So, do I call him 'Uncle Clark' now?", when he promptly found the answer.

_Head. Desk._

_

* * *

_

**Here's an alternate piece of dialogue I just had to put on here. It was out of character, but still too funny to pass up:**

_"You were brooding all though Thanksgiving-" He smirked devilishly, "-You wouldn't have noticed if your pants were on fire."_

_Bruce sent Clark a full-force bat-glare, "I hadn't slept for three days, Tim was throwing carving knives at the ceiling, and _somebody_ was busy shattering my windows with his super high-frequency whistling! You wouldn't have notice if your pants had caught on fire either! "_


	4. Christmas Miracles

**First of all- Christmas Vacation!!! Out of school, time for fun!! and baby, I've been a real good girl all year. Santa's putting some nice stuff under my tree. ;)**

**Second- Way to go Sunflare2k5 for guessing the the right answer last chapter.**

**Third- Ok, when I started this out, I had no idea who this was for. I still have no idea who this is for? It's just an all around Christmassie-type story. Does anybody want to claim it as their's? If you do, just say so and I'll come back later and dedicate it to you.**

**And Fourth- I realize that I haven't been doing any disclaimers. So, I don't own the characters or anything recognizable as belonging to someone else. I don't even own the ideas... which is somewhat strange... so really, I don't own anything at all. Except that Skillet CD that I'm getting for Christmas... so- enjoy!  
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The Christmas season was a most wonderful time of year. There were hearts glowing, much mistletoing, and loved ones were near.

Every year there seemed to be miracles, especially in Gotham. Crooks were taking a break. The usually cranky Gothamites were smiling with holiday cheer. Charities were overflowing with gifts and donations, thanks to Gotham's Favorite Son.

Bruce Wayne held a Christmas charity ball every year. There was a thirty foot tree, professionally decorated, in his lavish ballroom, also professionally decorated. Every who's-who in the country attended. Oprah, Ellen, Reiges- Trump and Gates- Rock stars, Scientists, Miss Americas, Presidents. Anyone who was anyone attended, and anyone who attended gave donations. This was, without question, the largest contributing factor in Bruce Wayne's philanthropist image.

Christmas provided another miracle in Gotham, however. Not as a charity, but as repayment for all that her champion did.

A gift for the Batman.

Batman also had a party every year. It wasn't filled with celebrities, but with close friends and family. Not in his ballroom, but in the upstairs library. Not a thirty foot tree, but an eight foot one, decorated in popcorn strings and homemade or gift-given ornaments.

It was the one day of the year he could relax and be surrounded by loved ones.

Alfred was over by the piano, listening to Martha play a Christmas song. Tim was busy showing the Commissioner how far his knife throwing skills had come since Thanksgiving. Clark was on high alert, incase one of the knives ricocheted and he had to act as a human shield... again. Lois and Selina were chatting away on the couch, laughing about something that probably had to do with the guys. Barbara was up next to them, smiling but not really in the conversation. Bruce himself was off in a corner, not participating.

It was their first Christmas together, or at least, it was suppose to be.

Dick had told them that he wouldn't be coming. He would be going to a party with some of the Titans instead.

Bruce had checked- half the people Dick had named already had plans. There was no party. He blamed himself, of course. He and Dick had gotten into a fight (over nothing, as usual) two weeks before and then suddenly Dick was busy.

All around, the rest of them were talking, smiling. All but Barbara. She had been counting on Dick coming, too. She caught his eyes and shrugged. _Nothing we could do._

But he knew she was upset.

"Alright everyone, it's about time we went downstairs for dinner." He said.

"Heck yeah! Food!" Tim shouted, completely skipping the stairs and flinging himself off the second story railing.

"Master Tim! Do control yourself!" Alfred called out after him. Alfred, of course, had taken the holidays off. A kitchen staff had prepared the meal.

Everyone headed down and took a seat around the huge feast that had been prepared. They had just started eating when they heard a knock at the door.

All of them exchanged glances. Had someone else been invited. They looked to Bruce, who shook his head and stood up.

He walked over to the door and opened it to find Dick standing there. Everyone stopped talking.

"Dick... I though you had plans." Bruce said offhandedly.

"Uh..." He started, flustered, "Well, my uh, my plans got canceled."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, well, y'know. Roy... decided to take Lian to Ollie and Dinah's, and uh, Wally... he went to his aunt and uncle's place. The others... just kinda... went home... so..."

Dick trailed off. He felt guilty for blowing everyone off the way he had. But it was Christmas, and if there was ever a day that they were all going to get along, it was today.

Bruce didn't say anything right away. He was feeling guilty as well, and apologies just didn't come easily to him. He hardly knew what to say. In the end, he settled for the only peace offering he could think of.

"Why don't you come on in. We saved a seat for you... just incase."

Dick nodded, "Thanks".

He followed Bruce back to the dining room. An awkward silence greeted them, until-

"Well, took ya long enough, Bro!"

Dick smiled, "Sorry 'bout that."

"Not a problem, Bro, not at all- As long as you brought presents. You did bring presents, right?"

He smirked and pulled a copy of "It's A Wonderful Life" out of his jacket pocket. "I brought this."

"That's an _old _movie."

"It's a classic! Besides, Timmy, Bruce just absolutely _loves_ this movie."

"Really? Bruce?"

Bruce 'humphed' and tried to appear uncarring.

"Well, alright, but we can't watch it until we've opened presents!"

Dick laughed, "That sounds good to me."

Before he sat down, he turned and threw the movie to Bruce.

"Hey, merry Christmas, Bruce."

"Thanks, Dick- and Dick... Merry Christmas."


	5. Plan C or Bunny Business

**All right! Back in business!**

**This one, I think, was DYLogger's request. Well, it will be, at any rate. What I mean by that, is that this is Part 1 of 2. I still have to write part two. Haven't yet.**

Anyway, as I was made aware in the reviews, I forgot to add the challenge last chapter. If anyone wanted to give it a go, it was: what B:TAS episode did I make a reference to?

**The challenge of this chapter is a little bit harder: How is Wally's plan related to the DC universe. Here's a clue - -_Multiverse_-**

**On to the story!  
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If anyone in the Justice League knew anything about chemicals, it was Wally West, because Wally was a scientist!

Not like Dr. Jekyll or Dr. Frankenstein- cause that would be kinda freaky. More like Uncle Barry- who wasn't freaky. He was awesome! But that wasn't the point. The point was that Wally totally had dibs on anything that was science-ey. That's just how it worked. People were suppose to know that by now, cause it was on the _'list-of-random-things-that-people-are-just-suppose-to-know' _list.

Well, it wasn't an _actual_ list, but- that didn't matter!

Supes was the dude you went to if you needed help with anything journalism or writting-related.

Vixen was the girl to see if you wanted something cute to wear for your date.

Green Arrow was always good for a couple'o bucks if you were short on cash

J'onn was in charge of anything involving Oreos.

And Wally was the authority on science and chemicals! And car mechanics. And chicks. And food. And iced mochas. (which were drinks- not food) ... And Brawlin' Bots.

So the point was, Wally had dibs on science-ey stuff! Bats, apparently, hadn't gotten the memo.

No, he was messing around with all the test-tubes and beakers and petri dishes. Striding around the League's Lab Station like he wasn't totally stealing Wally's thunder. This was so unfair. Completely unacceptable. Had to be stopped.

So. Wally's originally brilliant plan had been to sneakily sneak into the Lab without Bats knowing, figure out what Bats was working on, and then-!

But couldn't figure out what to do after that, so he zipped over to the caf., grabbed some food, made up some new plans, and discussed his dilemma with Elongated Man, a.k.a. Ralph- a fellow science guy who could relate.

"-so I though, 'He just must not know', cause Bats is really a pretty stand up guy and wouldn't purposely do lab stuff if he knew that was _my_ thing."

"Well, um. That's a good theory Flash, except Batman knows everything." Ralph stated warily.

"And that's why I didn't go with plan D." Wally said

"I thought that was plan B?"

"Nope," Wally shook his head, "plan B was replacing some of the chemicals with different kinds of soda."

"And we didn't go with that plan because...?"

"Because it could explode in Bat's face, and that, Ralph, would not be cool."

"Then wait, what was plan C?"

Wally sighed, "Ralph, Ralph, Ralph. You've got to keep up. Plan _C_- for _C_arrots."

"Carrots?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, we'll have to feed the bunnies something."

"Uh huh."

And Ralph nodded sensibly, as though he remembered even the slightest bit of any plan involving animals set loose on the Watchtower.

"So now the question is: where do I get thirty-five bunnies on my salary?"

Ralph figured that if he was going to get roped into Wally's plan- (which would almost certainly end up getting them suspended and or dead via angry Batman) -he might as well go all the way- have some fun with it.

"We could borrow them," Ralph said.

"But from who?" Wally inquired, "It's not like anyone around here can just pull a bunny outta thin air."

At that moment, Ralph had an epiphany. It had simply come to him. Walked right up and said, "Hey guys, sorry to bother you, but I just got called in for a last minute show. I was wondering if one of you could cover my shift for monitor duty."

"Sure thing, Zatana."

"Thanks, Flash! I owe you big time!"

Then the epiphany walked away and thaat left them with only one lose end in their plan.

Where to find the carrots?

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**To be continued...**


	6. Bunny Business part II

**This is most definately the longest drabblyish thing I've written so far. IMHO, it is pretty darn good. **

**The challenge is still the same as last chapter, as this is simply last chapter continued.**

**Like I said before, this one was for DYLogger, who wanted a fic involving Flash and Batman. I also read that she liked the Titans, so I threw some of them in there.**

**Thanks for the reviews so far. I love getting them, as it's always a nice surprise. **

**For anyone who has a question about the characters, I did put in a few people from the regular DC universe. Dick(Nightwing) and Roy(Arsenal) were part of the original Teen Titans with Wally(Kid Flash, at the time). The 'Pat'(short for Patrick) that Courtney(Stargirl) refers to is S.T.R.I.P.E.- He's that robot that's always with Stargirl-(that's because he's her stepfather.)**

* * *

Batman stood, perfectly still and silent, and stared at them. He somehow managed to be looking each of them in the eyes, simultaneously, despite the fact that he hadn't moved _at all _since they had gotten in there.

It wasn't even an angry look. It was just- weird. Just staring at you until chills went down your spine and you just had to look away- and when you finally worked up the nerve to look back over there, he was still in the exact same position as he had been before- still staring.

Like he could see into your head- knew you had done something wrong (even if you hadn't admitted to it yet- or your part in the crime was so minor that it hardly counted). It made you want to break down into a pathetic mess, list off every bad, irresponsible, and stupid thing you had done since the third grade, in vain hopes that you might be spared if you just admitted you were guilty and pitifully begged for mercy.

Bottom line- Batman was _very_ scary- and creepy.

... _Very_ creepy.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Dove asked uncertainly, "Because I really don't think this is a good idea. We could get into a lot of-"

"Oh, _grow up_, will ya, Don!" Hawk mocked. "Think of it as a _'learning experience'_."

"It's not funny, Hank. We could get into trouble." Dove argued, only to find his brother ogling Zatana's legs- clearly not listening to him. "How do I get involved in these things?" he murmured in surrender.

Flash grinned and slapped his shoulder, "Don't worry! This is going to be fun, and totally worth it. "

Don was not so convinced...

* * *

"Now who wants to explain to me how all of this happened?" Superman had taken to pacing back and forth in front of their little lineup, pausing to look at them expectantly. "Hm? How about it, Flash? Roy? Maybe you, Zatana? Hawk, Dove? No? Ralph? Stargirl? Nightwing? Kara?"

Courtney was uncannily reminded of her fourth grade English teacher, and the time she had gotten detention for throwing paper clips at the kid sitting in front of her during class.

'_Now, do you know what you did wrong, miss Whitmore?_'

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and drone out,_ 'Yes, Mr. Morgan'_

Besides, weren't the parental lectures about how she 'should know better' more Pat's job? He was the one always going on about her costume- it was just a midriff, okay?- and how she needed to be more responsible. Adults had this really suckish ability to take the fun out of everything.

But Superman was suppose to be a _cool_ adult. He was _Superman_, right? He should've been laughing at how funny the whole thing was. Not arm crossed, firm disapproval, '_Curfew_ was_ two__hours _ago, _Cortney_' tone in his voice.

...Maybe it was mind control? Take over the world by turning Superman into a bossy stick-in-the-mud? Somehow, that seem a little too far out there.

But who was she to say. She had just gotten busted for being part of Flash's 'operation: bunny'.

* * *

"So how does this play into the plan?" Ralph asked.

"They're my _bros_, Ralph! My _peeps_!" Wally insisted. "It's a Titan thing. It wouldn't be the same without 'em."

Flash's hands flew over the keyboard, typing in the data in nanoseconds. A few normal seconds later, two of the teleport pads gleamed and two figures materialized over them.

They glanced at each other, then to Wally, then back to eachother.

"Heyguys!- Beenwaytoolong- gonnaplayaprankonbats- helpaspeedsterout?- it'llbefun,Ipromise- youknowyouwantto- youwill?- really?- great!- nowletsgetmoving!" Flash tended to speed thing up when he was excited. Speech was no exception.

Luckily, Dick and Roy had know Wally for years, and among several other languages, they had learned to fluently speak 'Kid-Flash-During-Sugar-Rush'. They both answered with a shrug, and: "Ah, what do we got to lose?" "I'll probably end up getting disowned, but sure."

"Alright! Wing, Red, and your's truly, teamin' up just like old times." Flash made a few lightning-quick laps around his friends by way of greeting.

"So, what you got in mind?" Arsenal asked.

Nightwing smirked, "Yeah, Wal, the sooner I know what's going to lose me my inheritance, the better."

Wally smiled impishly, and said one word.

"Bunnies."

Roy and Dick once again exchanged looks, once again shrugged, and once again decided that it was just Wally being Wally, and that life tended to be less stressful when they just went with it. It was going to happen anyway, so they should be there when it did. Besides, someone would have to drag Wally to the hospital once this blew up in his face, and that's what friends were for.

* * *

Should she have seen this coming? - Heck yeah.

Did she? - Heck no.

Was she totally on the fast track to 'grounded-for-life'? - Heck yeah.

Was she ever going to see civilization after this? - Heck no.

Noticing a pattern?

Kara sighed in bordom as Kal went on and_ on _about how _irresponsible_ they had been. _'-Watchtower is not a playground-' _blah blah blah,_ '-not a zoo-' _blah blah blah, _'-respectable workplace-' _blah. blah. **blah. **Kal needed some serious life intervention, cause his idea of 'fun' was like, milkshakes and scrabble. Farming and writing-(_translation: chores and homework_)- were thing he actually_ liked _to do. No wonder his sense of humor was nonexistent.

Well, it seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but she decided she would have to get him a life. Leave it to Kal to make Kara do all the hard work while he got all the benefits. She really should point out, that as his only cousin, he should learn to appreciate her a little more.

"-and wether it was your _intention_ or not, that whole level ended up with_ fire damage_! _Money_ does not grow on_ trees_, though some of you seem to think it does. Do any of you even have the means to _pay_ for all the collateral? Did you plan on making up for all the_ time_ that was lost? _Herding __**rabbits**_? Of_ all _the darndest-"

Maybe she should point that out... _later_.

* * *

"Hey boys."

"Supergirl, Stargirl!" Flash turned and grinned to see the two girls coming into the room. "What's up?"

Stargirl returned the grin, "We heard you guys in here and since we're not on call right now, we figured we'd check it out."

Hank, seeing a clear opportunity to impress them, said, "We're just on a very important mission. Sorry, but we can't really talk about it. Security measures, y'know."

Don rolled his eyes, "Yes, Hawk, very mature. _Secret mission_."

The girls giggled at the brothers.

Flash smiled, "Were gonna play a prank on Bats. It's gonna be great. Wanna come with?"

Kara and Courtney looked at each other and knew they had the same devious thought.

"Heck yeah."

* * *

"-when he does that, the chemicals should make a cloud of smoke. When that happens, you zap up exactly thirty-five bunnies. Smoke clears and Bats is in a room full of rabbits that seem to have just poofed out of thin air."

Stargirl raised her hand awkwardly, "Yeah, question: why thirty-five?"

The others murmured thoughtfully in agreement. Why were there exactly thirty-five bunnies?

Zatana answered, "Magic takes a lot of energy, and that's about as many as I can summon at once and still be able to help out if we get called to a mission."

Everyone nodded. That made sense. Now that there were no questions, they could clearly see that it was a good plan. Bats thinks he's creating a small chemical reaction, and instead he gets thirty five bunnies that seemingly appeared due to said chemical reaction. Plus, it was so random that it couldn't possibly be traced back to them.

Roy and Hank were suppose to create a distraction in the cafeteria.

Ralph was to make a small change to Batman's lab set, so that it produced a smoke screen.

Courtney created some fireworks to blind the security cameras.

Dick and Wally were distracting Don so he wouldn't think about bailing.

And Zatana would conjure thirty-five bunnies when the smoke alarm went off.

Everyone hurried off to their places and waited for the grand finale.

"Do you like racing?" Flash asked.

Dove fidgeted, "Well, what kind of racing do you mean? Like a derby of-"

"No: cars."

Zatana probably should have mentioned that she needed to concentrate.

"I've watched it a few times. I'm not really a fan. Me and my brother went to see the Indy500, though."

Because if you got distracted when using magic, you might make a mistake.

"You guys actually went to the Indy500? Really?" Nightwing asked.

If you made a mistake, it could mean a lot of trouble.

"Yes. The real Indy500."

Unfortunately, small talk could be a distraction.

"That's not so impressive. I can run a lot faster that 500 mph." Flash said.

What was so interesting about race cars anyway?

"Flash, the cars don't drive at 500 mph."

And how many times could '500' be used in one conversation?

"They don't? Why do they call it the Indy500 then?"

**_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!_** The smoke alarm. Her cue.

She cast her spell, "Raeppa, sitbbar derdnuh evif!" and realized her slip up about two seconds before she passed out.

* * *

Five hundred was a lot more than thirty-five. A whole lot more.

"I knew it! This is bad. This is very bad. Were going to be in so much trouble. I knew I never should have agreed to this. I didn't want to do this in the first place! I-"

While Dove carried on in panic, the rest of their plan was going to hell in a handbasket. Zatana was unconscious on the floor, so there were now five hundred bunnies on the Watchtower and no way to make them disappear.

Bunnies hopped through the Infirmary, the Observation Deck, the Monitor Room. They were getting stuck in air ducts and elevators and any other place a bunny could get stuck. The smoke alarm was now coming from another level(because Hawk and Arsenal's distraction had accidentally caught the cafeteria on fire). The sparks from Stargirl's staff had set off the fire sprinklers in the ceiling. And in about five seconds Batman was going to look around the lab and see-

"-FLASH!!!!!"

They were so dead.

* * *

If they were dead, then this was definitely the more southern destination.

After Supes had spent a good twenty minutes reprimanding them, (which, for Wally, was complete overkill) he did the truly unfair thing and turned them over to Batman.

Batman had been staring at them for way over an hour, (without moving) and if that wasn't cruel and unusual punishment than Wally didn't know what was. Didn't they get the whole speedster thing? Ten minutes of normal time was like an hour of Flash time. So about two total hours of normal time was like... ummm... _eighteen_ hours of Flash time. At least he thought so.

But wait! Did Bats just move? Yes! He was going to say something!

"Why?"

Ah, typical Bats' one word communication. Like Wally didn't know that Bats totally kept score of that sort of stuff: more than nine words, -100 points. More than four words, -50 points. Two-four words, +50 points. One word or less to get the point across, +100 points. Well, Wally could play that game too!

"Why what?"

Bats- 100, Wally-50

"The rabbits. Why?"

Can't make things too easy for him, "Why do you think?"

Bats- 150, Wally- 100

"_Flash_."

"_Bats_."

Bats- 250, Wally- 200

Bats twitched just a little, "What was the point of filling the Watchtower with rabbits."

"Payback."

Bats- 150, Wally- 300

"...Payback?"

"Yup."

"_Who_?"

"You."

Bats- 350, Wally- 500

Ooh, bonus points for confusing him. Lots of bonus points. Bats-350, Wally-1000

"And what did I do?"

Wally couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face, "Stole my thunder."

Batman opened his mouth. Closed it. Turned around, and walked out of the room.

Final score: Bats- 300, Wally-1050

Victory was sweet.


	7. What's In A Name

**Ok, well, no one was able to beta for me, but I tried to go over it myself. I've never written any first person before, and I think I've only written from Superman's POV like twice. So I'd_ really _appreciate any comments or constructive criticism you guys might have for me on the story or characterization on any of that.**

**Next, I'd like to tell Himitsu Dark Half and LordFrieza that I haven't forgotten about you. Your stories will probably be the next ones up when I get around to writting some more.**

Umm... I'm pretty sure someone requested this, but at the moment I can't recall who...

**I also realized that I haven't been responding to comments, which is bad of me. I will endevour to actually write back to you from now on. On that note: here it is. Enjoy.**

* * *

When you're a Journalism major, with a minor in English, you tend to read a lot. To Kill A Mocking Bird, Macbeth, The Odyssey- I knew most classic literature forwards and backwards. Shakespear in particular showed a tendency to fit almost any situation, seeing as the first thing that came to my mind was _"What's in a name?" _

To be honest, I hadn't much thought about it until today.

Wally called over to me, "Hey, Supes, you'll tell us, won'tcha?"

"Oh-uh, sure." I answered. Wally, Diana, Shayera and John had been chatting at the conference table after our meeting ended. Batman and J'onn were at the other side of the room, markedly preoccupied with their own conversation, discreetly keeping track the others'. I had been thinking about how to word my article on Senator Matthew Finch. He was squeaky clean, and a shoe-in for re-election, so there wasn't much of a story, but Perry wasn't having any of it. '_The Planet runs news that people are interested in, Kent. Finch made the news- now go make it interesting!'_ I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts that I had no idea what they were talking about or how it concerned me.

"...so?" Wally prompted.

I realized that he expected me to already understand the situation. There was an old journalist's trick I used sometimes, when I wanted the informant to talk freely, thinking I already knew everything they did. Unfortunately for me, Wally wasn't a snitch, and I didn't even have a slight lead. Going against the 'cover-your-tracks' advice of the apprehensive voice in my head, (the one that always sounded suspiciously like Bruce) I admitted that I hadn't heard the initial question.

"No problem. The girls say 'Kal', John says 'Superman', and I say 'Supes'. I told em' of course you like 'Supes' better, but-"

Wally continued on, but at that point I had gathered that I was being asked what name I preferred to be called. I filed through the situation like I would an assignment. When and Where weren't being called into question, so I zeroed in on the Who, the What, and the Why.

Wally obviously thought it would be the nickname he gave me. Why shouldn't I like that name best? 'Supes' had an endearing quality to it. Wally gave everyone nicknames, and I just might have felt left out if I didn't have one. I would never admit it to anyone, on the chance that it got back around to Wally, but when he called me that, I literally thought of soup. There weren't many things stranger than picturing a can of Campbell's flying around in a red cape. It even sounded like something Mxy might try. But despite the fact that it made me think of real soup, I just couldn't imagine him calling me anything else. 'Superman' seemed too formal, and 'Kal' would just be strange coming from Wally.

John, on the other hand, was a soldier, first and last. In the Marine corp., I imagine he was always addressed as 'captain' or 'commander'- whatever his rank was. In the Lantern corp. it wasn't much different. He was always the Earth's Green Lantern. Most of his life he'd been known by some kind of title. It was perfectly reasonable for him to refer to other the same way. He never called anyone but Wally by his real name, and that was rarely. 'Superman' had the type of direct, no-nonsense context that would appeal to John. If _he_ ever called me 'Supes', I'd have laughed.

Shayera was a little harder to pin down. She called me 'Superman' more often than not, but sometimes when we were in an informal situation, it'd be 'Kal'. She had even called me 'Supes' once, after hearing Wally say it, but it was just too weird. Shayera's thoughts seemed to be that, as an alien, (like her) I would obviously prefer my alien name.

I noted that J'onn had those same tendencies.

Diana must have thought similarly. Kal-El was my intended name. As a proponent of the truth, she also saw 'Kal' as my true name, and when Diana got something in her head as being 'true', it was only a fool who tried to contradict her. She's called me 'Kal' for as long as I can remember. I don't recall ever mentioning it to her, but knowing Diana, she probably went out (taught herself how to navigate the Internet) and looked it up on her own time. I always thought it was funny though, for Diana- who usually has such a good sense of things- to call me a name that I never gave much thought to. But thinking about it, I couldn't see her calling me anything else.

I took another minute to consider everything from their point of view. They had only known me personally for a few years, after we'd formed the League. Most of that time they only knew me as 'Superman' or 'Kal-El'. Clark Kent was only a pair of glasses that they'd learned about after the fact.

"Ah, well..." I didn't know quite how to answer, and I wasn't too keen on choosing a 'favorite' either. Truth is, I liked everyone calling me what they called me. I couldn't imagine John calling me 'Supes' or Shayera calling me 'Clark'- it just wouldn't fit. I didn't want anyone to refer to me any differently.

But they didn't want a sentimental commentary from me. They wanted to know which of them called me the name I preferred. Problem was, I preferred my own name, Clark, which hadn't been listed. None of them won the contest.

"_Well?_" It was Hawkgirl, with her feathers quite literally ruffling in annoyance. Patience was not her virtue.

I fixed on a trademark Smallville Smile, and prepared to deliver the bad news, when I heard Bruce over in his corner say- "It's Clark."

I found it strange that he would not only drop his pretense of ignoring the conversation, but also comment on something that would definitely be categorized as 'trivial'. It was, however, the simplest answer, and his explanation was as true as any.

"Batman's right," I said. I was genuinely puzzled when I was met with so many confused faces.

"What is Batman right about?" Diana asked- trust her to be the first to look for answers.

"You didn't -?" and I suddenly realized that what I had heard in a conversational volume was really spoken in a barely audible whisper. He had been listening and mumbled - probably subconsciously- the conclusion he had come to. I was the only one who had heard him.

When I'd first met Bruce, he seemed set on calling me 'Superman', 'Kal-El', or 'Kent' (all of which he managed to make sound like an insult). He once went to the farm, to his annoyance, and stayed inside with Ma while I went out to help Pa fix the tractor. I don't know what she said to him, but he called me 'Clark' from then on. That was seven years ago.

Diana frowned, "Kal?"

I wondered if I should explain that had Batman answered their question. I decided not to.

Instead I smiled a little, said "Nothing."

I made a joke about how I liked my name- how it wasn't funny. My Ma picked that name. Did they really want say something about Superman's mom?- On the other side of the room, Bruce was relaxing back into his conversation with J'onn, but I was pretty sure I heard 'Idiot Kent' being muttered from the corner. It would have sounded more like an insult if he hadn't smiled.

* * *

**If anyone would care to beta this (or any of the chapters before), then I might revise them and repost them. And if anyone cares to beta future chapters, then that would also be nice of them.**

**Thanks for reading. Please click the little green word box below on your way out. Have a nice day.**


	8. Made of Honor

**New chapter is up!**

**This one is Himitsu Dark Half's request. It's not set on the Watchtower, cause I couldn't figure out how to get them up there, but I hope you don't mind. Just tell me what you think.**

**To my annonymous reviewers:**  
**PhantomSoprano- Thank you so much! I'm glad that you liked it. I appreciate the constructive criticizm, and I'll try to work on it from now on.**

**poison_ivy_7- Wow. I think your's is the longest, most detailed review I have gotten so far. It's really cool that you took the time to write such a well-thought-out review. Your comment also made me realize that people (telepaths not included) wouldn't be able to read my mind about the Bruce-on-the-farm scenario. I hadn't meant it to seem like Ma lectured him or anything, more like what you suggested, so I might write a drabble about it. **

**I need to make a shout-out to Daisyjane, who is my awsome beta for any WonderWoman-related stuff. **

**The challenge is at the end, because it's from the dialogue. Now on to the chapter.**

* * *

Diana, feeling slightly bemused, gracefully descended to the Central City Pier precisely at seven in the evening. She was following the instructions on the little card that had shown up in her room with a gift basket full of brownies. The instructions were to "_Prepare for a **Wonder**ful night_," and while she appreciated Flash's humor, she didn't quite understand why he was inviting her to the event.

Diana paused a moment to take everything in. Central City was as different from D.C. as Washington was from Themyscira. It was on the edge of the Missouri border, with Keystone just across the river. It had a quaint, cheerful beauty to it that Diana could appreciate. The sky was a muted pink, and every lamppost and power line at the pier was draped with strings of fairy lights. A bright red and yellow 'Anniversary' banner hung across two massive speakers on either side of a large, outside dance floor. Soft dance music floated through the air and the buffet table was the length of a football field, a clear sign that 'The Flash lives here'.

Wally was at her side in exactly three seconds, walking her over to the dance floor, "Wow, Di, you look great!" he complemented.

Most women would have spun, showing off the dress and preening for their admirer. Diana simply smiled, "Thank you, Flash."

"I'm glad you came. Shay was saying how you might think I was hitting on you, and that you'd, uh, start _hitting_ on me. The hurty sort of way."

Diana smirked, proud of herself for recognizing the slang terms, she had spend much time learning American slang though it would still sometimes confound her. "I don't think I would harm you for _that_._"_

"Yeah- wasn't too worried about you, since you're all reasonable, and princessy and stuff. Linda, though-"

"-_Flash!_"Diana grabbed his arm, and looked around diligently before continuing, "Aren't you worried about being overheard? Your enemies might have _spies_. There could be.."

Wally laughed out loud, "Whoa, paranoid much? Man, Di, you've been spending way too much time with Bats."

She fixed him with a firm look of _'We are not amused'_, every inch the regal princess, and it plainly told him how she felt about his casual mention of a loved one while in costume.

"But we're _safe, _Di so don't worry,"Wally insisted. "I checked the area for an suspicious people or devices earlier. The speakers are close enough drown out our voices, there is no one within twenty feet to overhear us and almost everyone who came to the celebration is a friend, or at least an acquaintance. Do you really think I would put Linda in danger like that?"

"I guess not, though you have been careless in the past," she replied.

He realized that she didn't know anything about his city or her people, and quickly moved to ease her fears.

"_It's okay_, Di. Look, you see that guy at the punch bowl?" Wally pointed at a tall, balding man, of maybe fifty. "His name's Frank- He's the dean of Central U. I help out the physics class there sometimes. And over there- with the little doggie and the cane? That's Mrs. Joyce. She was a war nurse when she was young, but now she makes really good oatmeal cookies. Those three by the dance floor are Rick, Margie, and Tony- I work with them at the police lab. The kid stuffing biscuits into his pockets?- His name's Aaron. Broke his arm three months ago playing on some monkey bars, and that lady is his mom, Carrie, and she runs the coffee shop on 31st and Main." Wally continued to point out all these people- who they were, what they did. He knew every last one.

She stared, "Flash?"

"They're nice people, and I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed if they were secretly spies. There's nothing to worry about."

There was a small, unnerving feeling most people got when Batman answered some absurdly obscure rhetorical question. Like 'what are the chances that would have happened?'- to Batman's deadpan, 'approximately 2,728,459 to 1.' That was the feeling Diana got when Wally was saying 'That's Bobby, and that's Jim, and that's Abby.'

The Justice League saved hundreds of peoples' lives. Flash remembered their names.

It was almost as an afterthought that she asked, "But what about your city?"

Wally waved her off, "No one's gonna attack Central. It's poker night."

Considering all that she knew of 'poker,' and because of her desire to know exactly why that made the city safe, Diana made a point of staying composed. "Poker night?"

"Yeah. Last Friday of the month, all the Rogues have a big poker game, so that's when we try to schedule important stuff."

When Wally spoke that way, openly about his family members, talking about his enemies in the same tone he had just used to refer to his co-workers... Diana had the distinct impression that if it were someone else she would have started on a long lecture about being irresponsible, consequences of actions, and not being so casual in one's duties. When Wally spoke that way, it was so honest that she couldn't object.

Flash was seemingly oblivious to her thoughts. He grinned, zipped over to the sound booth, and returned just as _'What A Wonderful World' _started to play. He offered her his hand, "May I have this dance?"

Diana, for all her regal upbringing, couldn't not suppress a small laugh when she accepted it. "You may," she responded with a huge smile.

"You know how to waltz?" He asked.

The Waltz, under her 'Dances' category, was one of the many customs of Man's World that she had resolved to learn but hadn't found to time to yet. "I can't say that I do," she admitted. She had simply not gotten to 'Dances' on her list of things to learn. Saving the world took a lot of a girl's time.

"That's fine. I'll show you, all you have to do is follow my lead." Wally took her hands and led her around in a gliding pattern of steps. "Like this: one-two-turn, one-two-turn, one-two-turn. See? It's not so hard."

"Not at all," she agreed. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"Aunt Iris taught me how last week- said every man should know how to dance."

She was mildly surprised by the admission, "You learned just for tonight?" _-_ _You learned just for me?_

"Yep! How am I doing so far?"

Diana smiled, "Very nicely. I'm impressed."

This seemed to encourage him to spin her, which he did with difficulty, as she was a full four inches taller than him in her heels.

He laughed, _'Maybe if you ducked a little... and didn't wear shoes,' _and they spun their way through another song, then another. The sky grew dark, and the colored fairy lights gleamed, and little fireflies danced over the river, and they had _fun_.

But a question had stayed in the back of her mind all evening so that, by the end of the night, she felt compelled to ask, "Flash... _Wally_, I don't want you to misunderstand- I've had such a wonderful time- but, why _did_ you invite me here?"

Wally smiled sheepishly. "Well, my Uncle Barry says- you remember him from Thanksgiving- he says no gentleman ever breaks a promise to a lady." He'd invited her on a code of honor?

"You promised me a dance, when?_" She only remembered one incident where she'd ever mentioning dancing...and that had been years ago._

"Well, no," he spoke somewhat awkwardly, "But one of my buddies told me that his dad told him that his girlfriend told him that one of her gal-pals got into Bats' computer logs, and found out that you and he were suppose to go dancing, but he never did. I didn't think that was too gentlemanly of him, and it wasn't fair to you, so I decided you should still get your dance, and since Bats wasn't up to it, y'know..." Flash trailed off, a little embarrassed.

Diana smiled to herself. This was not a spur-of-the-moment, typical-Flash, impulsively-nice action. He had thought this out. He had learned to dance. All because he felt she should have something that she wanted. She'd just been teasing Bruce about the dancing, wanting him to know she knew his secret and she would keep it. She hadn't really believed he would take her dancing but Bruce had put it in his computer on a list of things he should do but never found time for. And Wally felt she deserved to be taken dancing and had stepped in. She could count on her hands the number of people who had done something so thoughtful and touching for her. It made her realize something. Something she had discovered about Men and something her mother and sisters would never believe. That they could be surprisingly kind and honorable like Wally. So she took a moment to carefully consider what she wanted to say.

She embraced Wally in a hug. "As and Amazon, I have many sisters," she said, as warmly as she could. "But I have never known the meaning of 'brother'... until now."

* * *

**Alright, now here is the challenge that I'm sure you've all been waiting for. Who can come up with the actual names of the people Wally is talking about in this list. **_"-But one of my buddies told me that his __dad told him that his girlfriend told him that one of her gal-pals got into Bats' computer logs..."  
_**So that's four people. Wally's friend. The friend's Dad. The Dad's girlfriend. The girlfriend's friend. I'll give you a hint: the first one starts with an 'R'.**

**In the meantime, remember that other 'R': _Review_**

**You guys are all awesome!**


	9. Questionable Methods

**Good news peeps! Last chapter just broke the record for most reviews! (Thank you guys so much for all the reviews!) So I decided that we needed to do something to celebrate! Y'all get your chapter early! ... Yay!**

**This chapter was requested by LordFrieza. Hope you like it.**

**Congrats to Daisyjane (first place), and DYlogger (second place), for getting last chapter's challenge right.  
****  
Speaking of, it's ****Contest Time! Ok, believe it or not, the movie referenced in this was actually a movie in on of DC's comics. The challenge is to tell me what comic and issue this part of the movie is referenced in. (Ex: Sandman 23 ... That's not it, btw.****)**

**I figure it's about time for another disclaimer, so: I own nothing! All this stuff belongs to DC. My only claim is to my fancy italics and bolding skilz.**

* * *

This was suppose to be a normal date, on a normal night, as normal people, seeing a normal movie. Why did nothing ever work out? Why could nothing ever _stay normal_. Why, _oh why, _did their plans always start off _so_ good, and end up sucking _so_ bad?

Answer? **Question.**

It had all started out perfectly fine:

"_I'm bored, Vic." _

"_I was planning on infiltrating Starbucks. You could come." _

"_No, let's see a movie." _

"_You know how I feel about the industry-" _

"_It's that new World's Finest movie. The one with Jason Wish in it. Dinah said she and Ollie went, and it was really funny, so we're going." _

"_But, Helena, the industry-" _

"_We're going, Q. Deal."_

"_But, Helena-"_

"_**We're**__. __**Going**__." _

"_Yes, Helena."_

Perfectly fine start, right?

It was fine when Vic said they had to walk because the subway system was 'compromised'. It was fine when people in the ticket line started yelling at them, because Vic insisted on paying with individual pennies, 'to avoid detection'. It was even fine when Vic wouldn't let her buy any Sour Twisties, because apparently they were part of 'the scheme'.

Even the movie seemed to be fine. Jason Wish was sexy. Lots of bad guys got their butts handed to them, and at least two fight scenes ended with explosions. That was the first half of the movie.

To all the civilians, it was turning into a great action flick. To her, being one of the (ex-)heroes, it was crazy great how wrong those directors were.

"**-you never could keep a secret."** The movie-Superman, (who perpetually sounded ready to break out in song) was saying to the movie-Batman. (who was blond)

"**There's one secret I never did tell you. Or anyone. **_**Why I fight crime**_**..." **Movie-Batman proceeded to tell a sad tale of his abusive mother, who had beaten his sister with a baseball _**bat**_. Sister Dearest would never come out of her coma, but as Batman, he could ensure that no one else ever suffered her fate! Que glistening eyes- pull in for closeup.

'_Oh yeah,'_ she was thinking, _'that's definitely Batman.'_

"**You need to learn to keep your emotions in check, Lance. Come. We have work to do. To your lab on the moon."**

'_Seriously? Lance? Moon lab?' _she really tried not to laugh. This movie was great, and the best part? It was so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong! There was no was Vic could be suspicious of a movie where Superman sounded like Captain Von Trapp and Batman was a crybaby blond. It was impossible- _absolutely impossible_- to get something 'sinister' out of that.

Until it happened.

"-all through the props. _Backgrounds_. Billboards!"

"Q?" _'He had better not be doing what I think he is'_

"Conspiracy," Vic kept muttering. "Government plot, I'm sure of it."

"Q." _'He is! He's ranting during my date!'_

"The film industry must have ties to the Barry Berry Soda Cover Up."

"_Q_." _'Nuh-uh! Not cool, Q!'_

"Can't believe I didn't see it before. So many new questions, so much research to be done."

"**Q!**"

Helena reached over, grabbed Vic's tie, pulled him across the seat, and kissed him.

'_How do like that, conspiracy buff? Maybe you can come up with a theory later, when your head's not spinning.'_

"Shut up, Q."

She grabbed his hand, stole the popcorn of the person in front of her, and Q didn't say another word for the rest of the movie.

Helena smirked. Life was good.

* * *

**Thanks again! Don't forget to click that little button below. Love y'all! Later!**


	10. What's In A Name ' ' Continued

**Hello loyal readership.**

**I know I've been gone for a while, and you all thought I must have died or something, but that was due to my vacation lasting several weeks longer than I had planned it. I will be updating regularly now that I am back. To make it up to you, I've written this very long chapter. Oh, alright. I originally wrote this to be a one-shot, and a completely seperate story, but since y'all went so long without a chapter, I decided that you deserved it more. **

**It's sort of the precursor to 'What's in a Name'. When Superman is saying how Batman went to the Farm once, and had called him "Clark" ever since. Well, this was just going deeper into exactly what went on during that time. I really hope you guys actually care to read this. **

**The challenge may be a bit difficult, as I hadn't intended this to be a chapter, but here goes: Part of a quote is included in one of Ma or Pa Kent's lines of dialogue. _What is the full quote and/or who wrote it? _ The hint- _the quote is exactly one sentence._**

**Hope you all like this chapter,**

* * *

Downward helical motion. Hazy vision. Ears ringing. Flashing red alert light. _'Slight concussion, temporary tinnitus, and primary engine failure, all caused by impact.' _Batman went through his mental checklist as he switched the jet to the secondary engine and pulled the Batwing up before it could become acquainted with the ground. Hopefully, the damage to his plane had given Superman the opening that he needed. He glanced out the cockpit window to see a green blur through his night-vision lenses, approximately 300 meters off.

"Superman," he called over the communicator, "have you neutralized the threat? Over."

"'_Roger, Wilco' Batman_. _Elipsis isn't going to be causing anymore trouble. Not anytime soon, at least. Just give me a second to fly him to Stonegate. ... ... Over."_

"Copy. Out." While Superman was busy mocking Voice Procedure, Batman checked over his plane's diagnostics._** ''Engine 1: 0%. Engine 2: 100%. Fuel Tank 1: 5%. Fuel Tank 2: N/A''**_... N/A? He frowned. He'd expected his primary engine to be destroyed when he rammed the plane into Elipsis, but he hadn't thought his fuel tank would be damaged.

"_Batman,"_ the communicator suddenly rang out, and Batman turned to see Superman hovering a few feet away, _"Stonegate says they'll be able to hold Elipsis, so we won't have to worry about him. How are you holding up? Your plane looks pretty bad."_

Batman shook his head and decided that protocol was useless where the alien was concerned. "My reserve fuel tank is not responding, and my primary fuel tank is almost empty."

"_Anything I can do?"_

"Not unless you can find somewhere for me to repair the Batwing within a 40 mile radius."

He was surprised when Superman replied, _"Actually, I know just the place."_

Batman frowned again, "We're at an unknown position somewhere in the Midwest, at 4 AM, with nothing but the occasional farm for miles."

"_We're in Kansas, 53 miles south-southwest of Smallville. 29 miles from Hickory Lane."_

345 Hickory Lane, Smallville, KS. That was the residence listed on Clark Kent's adoption papers. He'd done basic background checks on the city, residents, records, but they were all easily capable of having been altered. The idea that Superman might actually have lived there seem almost novel, but Superman was suppose to be all about truth, justice, and the American way, and It didn't get much more 'American way' than Kansas.

"Move quickly." He commanded. It would be getting light within an hour, people would be waking up. The increased activity and visibility that came with morning would make the Batwing infinitely easier to spot- An option he was not willing to allow.

"_Just stay behind me."_

He steered the plane into position and started to follow Superman. He had an odd feeling of apprehension. It wasn't necessarily suspicion, but there was an unease he got when he was forced into a situation he wasn't prepared for. Being unprepared was something that could get him killed, so he made a mental run through of all the possible scenarios.

The farm, as he'd read it was, could be a front. Kal-El could have acquired the land whenever he first arrived on Earth, and used it for various purposes. It could be a functioning farm with him having befriended the actual owners, or the original owners passing on with him keeping the abandon land, taking their surname as part of an alias. There was the possibility that all the paperwork and documentation was forged, and it wasn't even a farm at all. And it was also possible that the simplest answer was the truth; that he'd been adopted by the Kents as an infant, and the farm was his childhood home.

How much of that was true, he wasn't sure, and though most of them seemed unlikely, they were still possibilities. It was times like this that he wished he'd investigated more thoroughly. _'I need to use this to my advantage,' _Batman thought, _' turn this into an opportunity to gather information.'_

He deactivated his night-vision goggles as the sky turned gray with morning light. As they drew closer, he could see a white and yellow house. Huge red barn behind it, with smaller, white stables next to that. Windmill on the opposite side of the house, and a large metal silo farther back. There seemed to be 200 acres of what looked like wheat, and a pasture with a herd of cattle grazing in it. It certainly seemed like a functioning farm.

"_Try to land in front of the barn,"_ Superman said over the radio, _"I'll get it in from there."_

He pulled the Batwing down and set it down within ten feet of the barn, and warily stepped out. The barn was several times taller that his plane, but only a few feet wider on either side. The doors were the full length of the barn, but unless the building was for show, there would be tools and farm equipment inside.

Superman landed next to him, "Just give me a minute," he said, his voice no longer marred by the radio static.

He unlatched the doors and pulled them open, then flew inside and lifted a tractor up, carrying it out and setting it between the barn and the stable. He went back in and brought out another large machine, a plow, it looked like. He headed back, presumably to continue emptying the barn.

"Hang on," he called out after a moment, "The mower's stuck and I don't want to break the chain... now where's that key?"

Batman stood uneasily next to his plane. The small house somewhat shielded him from view, but in every other direction there was flat nothing for miles. Being out in the open like this, so easy to see or attack, it made him nervous.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, crunching on the grass, maybe twenty feet away.

"Turn around," a voice said, "nice an' slow."

Slowly, Batman turned to face that voice. Caucasian male, glasses, mid-fifties, tall for his age, graying hair. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a plaid pull over shirt, and he carried a shotgun at his side. Matched the picture of one Jonathan Kent that had come up during his research of Superman. Most likely, he'd heard all the commotion and come out to find the cause of it. He was surprisingly unfazed by Batman's appearance.

"How about you tell me what you're doing on my property, son?" he said evenly. Strangely enough, it didn't sound like a threat. More like a genuine offer. Offering to hear a stranger out before jumping to any conclusions.

He seemed reasonable, kind. Batman inched his hand towards his belt anyway, just in case. Superman came back out of the barn at that moment.

"The mower's out, so I think the 'wing should be able to... Huh? What's going on?"

"Oh... Ah,_ Superman_." he was also a terrible liar. "What brings you to-"

"It's alright, Pa. This is Batman, he knows my name," The familiarity was obvious in his tone. Batman had spent years studying body language, and one of the things he had learned was that it was almost impossible to fake familiarity with someone you didn't know or like. Superman's body language- perfectly normal, even though an alien should have had non-human mannerisms- showed that he was extremely comfortable around this person. "But what are you doing out already? Did I wake you up?" And concerned for him as well, it seemed.

"It's alright, son." At this, the man walked over to the two of them, now perfectly at ease. The tone of that 'son' was vastly different than earlier. "Your mother heard some noises outside and thought it might be those boys trying to tip the cows again."

_... 'Your mother' ..._

It was getting much brighter. The flat, Kansan landscape left nothing to obstruct the sun as it came over the horizon. Batman glanced around the green and golden farmlands, and then to his striking black jet, smack in the middle of it. Their little pleasantries had gone on long enough.

"_Kent,_" he said, "_my plane_."

Superman and his 'Pa' paused in their conversation. Superman grinned apologetically. "Sorry, Pa. His plane is broken and I offered the barn as a temporary garage." He went and picked up the Batwing like it was a ten inch model, loaded it into the cleared out barn, and shut the doors.

"Sorry it's already light out already, but that means you probably won't be able to leave until tonight. You should come inside."

Bruce reluctantly followed the others towards the house. It was white and yellow. There was a picket fence, and a porch swing. It was... homey.

The inside similarly inviting. Pictures on the mantle, burgundy sofas, earth-toned swag curtains. The stairs were near the back, and half hidden in the pale light coming through the kitchen windows. The two rooms were open, the only separation was a short wall, and inside was a wooden table set with four chairs. There was lots of wood in the house- the stairs, the cabinets, the chairs, the table- and it didn't look mass produced. Home made?

The elder Kent went to the counter and started up the coffee machine, then made his way up the steps to the second floor.

"So," Superman laughed, "what do you think? It's not a cliff-side mansion in New York, but it's home." He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

Batman remained standing, "That was your father?"

"Yep," Kent was surprisingly... relaxed, "He'll be telling Ma not to worry and to go back to bed." He suddenly grinned, "She just told him to can it. She's going to come down. You'll get to meet her."

_Ma...? Get to meet...?_ Was Superman even listening to what he was saying? He was suppose to be the last of a superpowered _alien race_, not some_ John Boy _double.

Maybe it was the strangeness, but he was taking nothing for granted, "This is your parent's house?"

"Unless they retired to Florida in the last minute and a half."

There were soft taps above as someone walked near the top of the stairs. He could hear muffled laughter.

"Honestly, Jonathan. You're worse than a mother hen."

"Me? Martha, you're stubborn as a mule."

"I love you too, Dear."

And not moments later Mr. Kent came back down the stairs, trailed by a sleepy woman in a blue robe, mid forties- early fifties. She smiled as she stepped into the kitchen. _Her space_, he noted, as her presence reminded him uncannily of Alfred's in the Manor kitchen.

They poured their coffee, Mr. Kent pulled out a chair and opened a newspaper, but Mrs. Kent turned to him, "What about you, Dear? Would you like a cup?"

Batman wasn't sure- he was beginning to think that earlier concussion was making him delusional- but it seemed like Superman's mother had just offered him coffee. He was unprepared for that. People were suppose to be afraid of Batman- they were suppose to cower and run, not ask 'one sugar or two?'.

He was prompted, by a very Alfred-esque voice in the back of his mind, to answer, and to do so politely, "No- thank you- Mrs. Kent."

Superman watched his awkward response, seemingly torn between confusion and amusement, then turned to his father, "So someone's been out here causing trouble for you, Pa?"

"Just those Johnson boys from town," Jonathan said.

Kent's expression darkened, "The same ones who spray painted all over the silo last month?"

"Now, Clark," his mother admonished, "we don't know for sure if those boys did that or not. And shame on you, Jonathan, encouraging it."

They both looked down, "I know, Ma." "Sorry, Martha."

Batman observed the exchange with interest. The irony was that Kent had this conversation with him all the time. Now he knew where that sense of innocent-until-proven-guilty came from.

"Hmm."

Everyone turned to Jonathan.

"What is it, Pa?"

Jonathan stood up and pointed out the kitchen window to several black clouds moving quickly in the distance, "Looks like rain soon. The cows'll have to be brought in before it hits."

Kent nodded and got up to help him, "We'll have to cover the machines, too. Just give me a second to change." There was a red blur up the stairs, immediately followed by another blur down, and Clark Kent was standing by the door, blue jeans, white tee-shirt, boots, and glasses on, "Alright, let's go," and they were out the door.

There were few times he could have attacked Superman with a chunk of kryptonite and felt perfectly justified. There was the time he referred to him as 'not that bad of a guy' in an interview. There was the time that he decided to 'help out' and knocked Bane unconscious before he could be trailed to his newest stash of Venom. And there was now, when he abandon him in a country kitchen with his mother. He was _Batman_. He didn't _chat_. He didn't play_ house guest_. He didn't-

Mrs. Kent walked over with her coffee, "So you're Clark's friend, from Gotham, is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled, "Well it's wonderful to meet you, Dear."

"... You too, Mrs. Kent."

"Oh," she waved him off, "call me Martha."

He couldn't.

"Now what would you say to a tour?"

"I- ... That would be- nice, Mrs. Kent."

She brightened, "Wonderful, Dear. I suppose you've already seen the kitchen. Did you know Jonathan made this dining room set for me one Christmas? He spent months holed up in that barn of his working on it. Nearly caught pneumonia, staying out there in the cold. And over here in the siting room-"

She led him over to a portrait hanging on the far wall. It was the three of them, her, her husband, their son. The subjects were nothing alike, but he was still immediately reminded of another portrait hanging in the study of his own home.

"Clark had this done when he left." She turned to him and smiled, "He said that way he'd never be far from home. Such a sweetheart, my Clark."

She continued her tour, showing him her home and telling him all about it. Little stories about where she got this, or who gave them that. Her home was simple, _humble_. He hadn't been expecting that. And then she led him to another room. When he looked inside, he realized he hadn't expected it either.

"All these years, but Clark never gets rid of anything," she laughed "He just keeps collecting things, like a squirrel storing up for winter!"

A squirrel was not what came to his mind... There was a framed newspaper on the desk. The Smallville Gazette, with a picture of a highschool football team, and 'Clark Kent' in the byline. An Edward R. Murrow Award. Next to it was a highschool diploma, a valedictorian's certificate of achievement, college degrees in Journalism and English, a page of the Daily Planet, all framed. Several picture frames sat on the bedside table. Clark with a red headed girl and a grinning boy. Clark and a group of other teenagers, all holding copies of the Smallville High's _Torch_. On the dresser were little model planes. Some had been hand painted, others hand carved. He picked one up to examine it. The craftsmanship was incredible.

"Clark made that himself," Martha said fondly, "Gets it from his father."

At that, Bruce stared. How did one inherit a skill from someone they were **not** genetically related to? This woman- she talked like Superman was her actual _baby_. _'Gets it from his father_'. But then...

"Mrs. Kent..." And he was once again struck with a sudden discomfort. This elderly woman created a unease in him that the most intimidating criminal could never match. Trying to voice his thoughts was like trying to speak with rocks in his mouth, and trying to treat her like any other civilian was like trying to treat Alfred like another member of the staff.

"What is it, Dear?"

"Kent-... _-_Clark- ... he's your_ adopted _son..." It didn't come out at all the way he had intended.

Martha Kent may have been a simple homemaker and a farmer's wife, but first and foremost, she was a mother. She knew instinctively when a child was upset, when they needed something, and more often than not, what they needed. When little Clark was a baby, there were nights she would wake up seconds before he did. When he cried she would know if he was hungry, or tired, or sick, or just afraid of the big new world he'd woken up to.

That mother's intuition had served her well when raising her son, and it still did now, as she watched the boy in front of her try to make some sense. Martha knew she probably shouldn't think of him as a boy- he must've been as old as Clark- but what she saw in him was a child trying to understand something difficult and confusing.

Now, Clark had talked about him often enough. She had been told he was curt, determined, angry at times, saved his words for when he needed them, and not easy to get along with, but that he was a man her son respected. Another thing Clark had mentioned was his incredible intelligence. Martha may not have been a genius, but she knew that someone even half as smart as Batman was suppose to be wouldn't get confused the way he was. That let her know it wasn't a matter of not knowing Clark was her son. It was a matter of not knowing what that should mean.

She smiled understandingly, "We brought Clark home when he was just a few months old. Jonathan wanted to name him 'Joseph', after some ball player, but I liked 'Clark'. My maiden name. He was such a small thing back then. "

She walked forward and picked up one of the framed pictures on the desk, "He got a lot of things from his father. A love of the land, of growing things. Working with his hands. His patience, and sense of justice. Jonathan could never stand to see a man wronged, and Clark picked that right up. They even have the same nervous habit- fidgeting with those glasses."

"Now, the books, Clark picked up from me. I read to him every night," she laughed, "It wasn't long before he was making up his own stories to read to me. He'd write them down in a little notebook and carry it around everywhere we went. My Clark, what a card."

Bruce listened in silence, each word she spoke in the guise of fond memory was clearly for his benefit. Not patronizing, or condescending, or pitying. Just explaining, pure and simple. Examples of her child's life. Things families were suppose to do, things parents were suppose to teach you. There was no convincing tone in her voice, there was only fact, undisguised expectance that her words would be accepted as truth because they were the truth- just like that.

And like her son, he found it was easy and natural to believe her. Like Alfred, or a small child- she was someone who had no reason to speak anything but the truth. That... and Bruce never could bring himself to think of mothers with anything but respect.

This one... Martha... magnified that effect tenfold.

"I understand, Mrs. Kent."

To his surprise, she turned to face him, looked right in his eyes and said, softly, "No."

He wasn't sure what to say, or if he could say anything if he'd wanted to. She continued, "You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. My husband and I didn't raise Superman, we raised Clark, and that makes all the difference."

He didn't reply this time, going over her words in his mind. The downstairs door hitched as it opened and chatter immediately filled the quiet house.

Martha turned to him and smiled, waving him to follow her down. Jonathan and Clark were in the living room, dripping wet, and Batman suddenly noted the thunder cracking, the torrents of rain beating against the windowpanes.

"You two are soaked. Clark, off of that carpet! Oh, now look at all the mud. What am I going to do with you?"

He laughed, "It's not mud, Ma, it's water... But I'll clean it, anyway?"

"You most certainly will."

"_Ma_."

Batman made an effort to fade into the kitchen wall, the bright light fixture doing it's best to undermine him, and Kent completely dashing his hopes of disappearing when he decided to be_ social_.

"Heck of a storm out there, huh?"

He made a point of slowly looking out the window, unsurprised that he couldn't see more than a few feet, and replied with obvious sarcasm, "I hadn't noticed."

But Clark_ smiled_, probably thought he was making a joke, "All of that noise, no one will be outside, and the rain and clouds make it impossible to see."

He had to admit, he wasn't quite sure where this was suppose to be going, and he gave Clark a look to convey as much.

Kent's smile grew, "In this weather, no one would notice if, say a plane took off." Oh.

"If we head out to the barn now, we can have your jet fixed before the storm lets out."

Bruce nodded, "Let's go."

The two of them headed to the door, only to be stopped by Mrs. Kent.

"You boys are going out in this rain?" she asked in concern.

"Ma, we'll be fine, but we have to get that plane fixed."

"I do wish you'd wait for some better weather."

"He's right, Mrs. Kent. I need to be back in Gotham. Work to do,"

He knew if Alfred were here, he would thank the Kents for their hospitality, compliment their home, exchange pleasantries and then graciously take his leave, but instead he found himself giving a quick nod to each of them. He expected them to find it rude, but Mr. Kent returned his nod, and Mrs. Kent smiled broadly, telling him "You be careful out there."

They ran quickly through the downpour and the wind to the shelter of the barn. Once inside, Batman looked around briefly, noting hay bales and tools. So this was what a typical barn looked like from the inside. But there were more pressing matters, he reminded himself.

"Can you do an X-ray?"

"Sure. What am I looking for?"

"Unconnected wires, jagged metal, any reason that fuel tank in the back wouldn't be responding."

"Right."

He checked the plane's exterior while Superman looked at the inner workings. He doubted he would find anything new, but he couldn't stand the thought of doing nothing. The nose was dented badly, and the left wing had seen better days, but it was nothing that couldn't be fixed back at the cave, and it would hold up until he could get home.

Home... he really should have thought to call the manor. It must have been nearly 7. Alfred would have expected him back around dawn, and it was now mid-morning. Not to mention Dick would be awake soon, and he'd been begging to go to the Gotham Zoo for weeks now.

"Hey, Bruce. I think I may have something here."

Batman strode over to the other side of the plane near Kent, "What's it look like?"

"There's a wire going right here," he traced a line across the side of the jet as he talked, "and it's come lose right there."

Batman nodded, "Is it red or grey?"

"Grey."

"Good. It's fixable." He hauled himself up inside the cockpit and turned on the on-board computer. The grey wire was connected to the main system receiver. Since it came unconnected, the computer didn't register the fuel tank. By simply rerouting the server, he could get the signal through a different wire and... _**''Fuel Tank 2: 100%''**_

Kent looked up at him when the electronic voice droned out the planes new system status, "Wow, easy as that."

He nodded.

"Sure you don't want to stick around any longer? Ma seemed to like having the company."

He shook his head, "Can't. Alfred will have a heart attack if I'm not back soon, and I have an 11 year old to take to the zoo."

He smiled, "Well, feel free to come by any time, Bruce."

"Maybe." They both knew he wouldn't. Bruce closed the cockpit as Kent opened the barn doors and lifted the plane out. He carried it up above the storm clouds and flew it for a distance to substitute the lack of a runway. With the jet finally flying on it's own power, and a course set for Gotham, Bruce made to get his communicator and contact Alfred. Just before he did, though, something caught his attention.

In his jeans and tee-shirt, hovering 20,000 ft. above the ground, Superman was waving at him.

He smiled in spite of himself, rolled his eyes, and replied knowing he could still be heard.

"Goodbye, Clark."

* * *

**You know the little review button down there? Well, it keeps changing colors. It use to be purple, then green, (or was it green then purple?) and now it's blue. Why? I mean, is there any color button that has been scientifically proven to get more reviews? Can we find out? 'Why, yes! Yes we can!' **

**All that is needed is for you to click the little green/purple/blue button, and write something in the magical box that will then appear. It is really quite fun. Statistics show that reviewing will increase your life span, cure disease, help with your love life, and make you rich- in most cases.**


	11. Parting Words

**Well, I know I've been gone for a good long while, and there is a reason for that. It is called "college", and it is the new bane of my existence.**

**Sadly, it has, and continues to, take up vast amouts of my time. Fear not, my unwritten-as-of-yet story, The Lions' Den- Redux is still a work in progress, and I have no intention of abandoning it, but I will have to wait until school is not such a priority. That most likely means you will get something this summer or the next, but I won't start posting until I have the whole thing written. **

**The challenge of this chapter is the challenge of all the chapters: that is, I want you to list, in order, the challenge of each chapter and its answer. If no one got the answer, you list no answer.  
On that note, I will be changing the clue to Plan C, since no one got it anyway and it would make the challenge easier. The winner of this chapter's challenge will have this chapter dedicated to him/her.**

Right here - This chapter is dedicated to:

I would also like to that everyone who stayed with this story, all the reviewers, Daisyjane, my _Wonder_ful sometimes-beta, anyone who requested chapters, and yes, even you lurkers. Thank you all. 

**Finally, I know that no one requested this chapter, but that's because I've had it sitting unfinished on my computer for ages now- before I even started Enchilada. In fact, it was this little drabble- though I only just today came up with a fitting end- that inspired me to start this series in the first place. I thought it would be a little fitting that I end with it.**

At that, yes, this shall be the final chapter, the very end, my Parting Words...

* * *

Clark Kent

Ollie Queen

Jason Blood

Dick Grayson

Tim Wayne

Jim Gordon

A journalist, a millionare, a knight, an acrobat, a college student, and the police commisioner. Most of them were costumed superheros. All of them fought for something they believed in.

The six men had one thing in common tonight: they would be the pallbearers at the Batman's funeral.

He had asked, in his will, for them to take the responsibility. They had all sorrowfully accepted.

The funeral began at twilight and went into the night, when it seemed most fitting. Every member of his 'family' was there, the Justice League was there, the entire Gotham P.D. was there, the Titans, the Outsiders, several solo heros, and suprisingly, some known villans like Riddler and Harley Quinn were there. Every one of them had dressed in black. Every one held a candle. Flags flew at half mast on no official order...

In the front row sat Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Catwoman, Commisioner Gordon and his daugher, Barbara, Zatana, an older gentleman who no one seemed to recognize or question, the pallbearers- people who were closest to the Batman.

There had been little dispute about who would give the eulogy. None of his adopted children trusted their own voices to be steady to speak. Gordon claimed too little knowledge of the man's actual life. Selina was too angry, Zatana too withdrawn, and Alfred, for all that he wanted to, could not go up in front of thousands of people and expect to go unrecognised. Magical enchantments simply did not protect that far.

Superman slowly made his way up to the podium. The mourners fell silent, still not quite use to the costume he had donned for the funeral. The black suit and cape, and the yellow bat underdeath his Kryptonian crest, was an homage that he had worn for the past week. Almost every one of the heroes present had altered their regular suits in the Batman's honor, promissing to wear them untill he had been laid to rest. A silent respect. One he could appreciate.

"First of all, thank you all for coming here toninght," he began, just as he had rehersed, "We are all here to mourn the death of a great hero. This has been a difficult ordeal for all of us. The Batman was... he was..."

He stopped and shook his head, deciding that this was not a job for Superman. Superman was confident and idealistic and to be honest, just a bit too preachy. No, this was somthing he needed to do as Clark. Clark was the one who wanted to give the truth. Clark was humble and genuine. Clark was Bruce's friend.

"No- sorry. Let me start over. I came here today with a speach planned out, and it was safe and eloquent and it really didn't say anything that mattered at all. Batman would've hated it and if he were here, he would have told me exactly how stupid he thought it sounded." he smiled softly.

There were stares and some of the crowd exchanged curious glances, wondering just what caused this noticable and immediate change in Superman. This wasn't the way he normally talked to them, he wasn't standing the same, and he had suddenly adopted a habit of reaching for the bridge of his nose.

"He was like that: no time for anything that didn't matter. Blunt and to the point. He never bothered to sugar-coat anything so you got the truth full force- and sometimes it hurt."

At that point he paused and took a breath, as if preparing himself to do something difficult.

"When one of the League's enemies came and asked us for help, I basically told them that their planet could blow up for all I cared. Batman- he told me to get over myself- I think his exact words were- heh- 'cry me a river'."

"He told me that we didn't get to pick and choose who was worth saving- that we made a promiss to help people, and we didn't get to make exceptions because we didn't like someone...  
I was so angry with him. He was being all high-and-mighty, and he was *_wrong_*, and he wasn't *_listening to me_*._ God_, thinking back on it now, I realise how much I sounded like a whiny toddler at the time."

"I was a jerk to him for the next several days. I ended up breaking his shoulder, and even then he still had to literally drag me off a meteor about five seconds before it went nuclear, and I thanked him for saving my life by spending the next two weeks blatantly ingnoring him. When I finally started feeling guilty, and went to apologise, he told me all was forgiven."

"God," he started laughing, "he even made a joke out of it. Said_, 'To err is **human**, afterall'. _But that's just how he was, all of his life. Always doing the right thing, never giving up, on the world, on himself, or on his friends."

"I'll admit, sometimes he could be a downright pain. He was stubborn, disagreeable, pesimistic, sarcastic, and just plain cinical. He got on the wrong side of a lot of people that way. But I have no doubt in my mind, what every single one of those people wouldn't do to have him back."

He paused to adjust glasses he wasn't wearing, and stared at his boots for a long moment before going on.

"He was a great man. He had a family, loved ones, friends... I will miss Batman. The Justice league will miss him. Gotham will miss him,"

Then Clark steeled himself, and looked into the eyes of the crowd with unparalled conviction.

"But we will never forget him."

**fin**


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